Hotel Room Adventures

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve enjoyed staying in hotels. In a hotel room, everything you need to relax and have fun is right there in one place: a big TV, a comfortable bed, a bathroom, clean towels, an ice machine, room service, a newspaper outside your door each morning, and best of all, someone else to clean up after you. OK, I admit, the exact same features are available in my own home, but the big difference is the hotel cleaning staff does not make me feel guilty for never lifting a finger to help.

And, of course, in my home there is never a strip of paper across the toilet seat with the message, “Sanitized for your protection.” This feature alone is worth the exorbitant room rate.

As a child, staying in a hotel was a rare and exciting adventure. It’s not like we did it very often. In fact, now that I think about it, my family stayed in a hotel exactly once: a four-day trip to Cape Cod when it rained every day. As we drove home, I remember my father muttering, “Tell me again why we thought cramming seven people into two small hotel rooms was a good idea?”

I don’t know why my dad was grumbling. My brother and I had plenty of fun on that vacation, especially our exciting bed-to-bed long jump competition. (I won; he broke his wrist. It was terrific.)

A good friend of mine travels out of town on business at least three weeks per month. This guy spends more time in hotel rooms than he does in his own house. To give you an idea, a couple years ago he came home from a business trip and said to his wife, “Hi honey. Hey, where’d that baby come from? It’s ours? Really? Did I know about it?”

I’m sure my friend hates hotel rooms. On the other hand, I travel out of town infrequently, so staying in a hotel is still kind of exciting. I went on a three-day business trip to out of state recently, and when I checked into my hotel room, I immediately threw open the bathroom door and gazed downward. “Yes!” I shouted, “Sanitized for my protection! This is great!”

I turned on the cable TV, took off my shoes, and did a few bed-to-bed long jumps. I’ve lost a little elevation since age 12, but now that I’m in my late 50s, I can really make those bed springs groan with my cannonball landing.

It turned out to be a very frustrating trip. I was so busy with meetings and other business related activities, I only spent about six hours each day in the hotel room — not even enough time to get a decent night’s sleep, let alone have fun hanging out in the room.

When I arrived home I was genuinely depressed. Three days with a nice hotel room all to myself, and I didn’t get to enjoy it one bit.

My wife noticed I was mopey, and when I explained why, she said, “How about if I make you a soggy sandwich? And I’ll knock on the door just as you’re getting out of the shower and yell, ‘Room service!’”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” I replied. “And will you stand around looking impatient until I hand you a five-dollar tip?”

“Sure,” she said. “And if you’d like, I’ll put a strip of paper across the toilet seat.”

“You mean, you mean,” I said hopefully, “sanitized for my protection?” 

“That’s right, dear,” she said with a smile. My blue funk suddenly lifted and I was happy once again. Is she a great wife, or what?

Forgive 70 Times 7? Get Out the Calculator

One day St. Peter said to the other disciples, “You know how Jesus is always talking about forgiveness? Well, I’m gonna ask him a question that will earn me some major Brownie Points!”

So Peter approached Jesus and said, “Master, if my brother sins against me, how often should I forgive him, up to seven times?” Peter glanced back at the other disciples and winked. Forgive someone seven times?! Surely even Jesus will say, “No no, that’s way too many. Two or three times, max.” Peter hoped Jesus also would add, “But that’s very generous of you, Peter, to offer to forgive someone seven times! Good for you.”

However, Jesus stared at Peter for a few moments, then said, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven!”

Stunned, Peter walked back to the disciples. John said, “Well, what did he say? Did you get some Brownie Points?”

Peter shook his head and replied, “Not only did Jesus say we have to forgive, but now we have to do math problems!”

People often say the most powerful three words in the universe are, “I love you.” And that’s probably correct. But three other words are a close second: “I forgive you.”

The words “I love you” are wonderful, and they take a good situation and make it even better. But you can argue that the words “I forgive you” are even more powerful because they take a bad situation and turn it around to make it good.

Jesus was well aware the disciples were not good at math. (Except Matthew, who was a tax collector and had passed the CPA exam, although he never let the other disciples borrow his calculator.) 

When Jesus said to forgive others seventy times seven, He wasn’t offering a specific number, as if we have to forgive someone exactly 490 times, but on the 491st time, oh boy, that’s it, no mercy!

No, by giving the disciples a math problem, Jesus meant we have to forgive endlessly. No matter how many times someone sins against us, we must be ready and willing to offer forgiveness. 

Have you ever heard of “Irish Alzheimer’s”? That’s where you forget everything except the grudges. (And I hear it’s common with other ethnic groups, too.) In many families, there are people who haven’t spoken to each other in decades, and no one even remembers what caused the feud in the first place. But neither party has any interest in being the first one to say “I’m sorry” and offer forgiveness.

Speaking of the words “I’m sorry,” there is a stunning aspect of Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness. He says we must forgive others always, but He doesn’t qualify His teaching with: “…as soon as they apologize and ask for forgiveness.” Whoa, you mean we’re supposed to forgive even if the other person doesn’t ask for forgiveness? Yes.  

Now, obviously, if the other person sincerely says, “I’m sorry,” and asks for forgiveness, and then we do indeed forgive him, that is pure joy. That is a complete and glorious reconciliation.

However, even if the other person does not ask for forgiveness, Jesus says we must forgive anyway. Since that won’t end the feud, why should we bother? Because when we forgive others who sin against us, it keeps us from becoming bitter. It keeps up from sinning.

The most perfect example of this is Jesus’ words from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” If Jesus could forgive the people who murdered Him, don’t you think we can forgive others who did far less to us?

Jesus commands us to forgive others. We don’t need a calculator. We just have to do it—every single time.

To-do List Obsession

Hi, my name is Bill, and I’m a to-do list-aholic. I am finally admitting that my life is out of control and unmanageable. The cause of all this chaos is an item which is supposed to provide more control and manageability to one’s life: the to-do list.

At first, to-do lists were a good thing. Years ago I got into the habit of making a to-do list at work to help me organize tasks and avoid forgetting something crucial. Before using to-do lists, I’d often drive home in the evening and suddenly slap my forehead and yell, “Oh crud!! I forgot to return an important phone call!” I discovered that giving yourself a concussion while cruising at 60 mph isn’t recommended by most driving instructors.

Slowly and subtly the to-do lists stopped being tools to assist me in doing my job. Instead they became the job itself. I should have realized something was wrong when I started making multiple to-do lists. Each day I made a list of things to do by noon; things to do by the end of the day; things to do by the end of the week; phone calls to return; emails to write; thank you notes to send (always a blank list — after all, I’m a male); reports to run; and inter-office memos to write.

I had to remove the phone and computer from my office to clear enough desktop area to lay out all my to-do lists. Since many of the activities on the lists required a phone or computer, it should have been clear that trouble was brewing. But by that point I didn’t care. Doing the things on the to-do lists no longer mattered; making the to-do lists was my only concern.

The first two hours of each morning were spent making my master to-do list: a to-do list of all the to-do lists. Once I had my list of lists, I would spend the rest of the day carefully crafting each individual list. By 5 p.m. I was finished: 20 to-do lists neatly arranged on my desk. It was exhausting work, but at least I could drive home unconcussed, basking in the pride of a job well done. The next morning I would come in and start the process all over again.

After a while, however, my boss noticed that my productivity had slipped somewhat (from about 60-percent efficiency down to zero-percent). He approached me and suggested that it might be useful if I actually DID a few of the things on the lists. Oh great, just what I needed, more pressure.

My to-do lists now included items which were relatively easy to accomplish, so I could check them off with a red pen and appear productive. Some of these less-than-difficult tasks were: “Wake up,” “Eat breakfast,” “Think about to-do lists,” “Remember to breathe,” etc. By 5 p.m. I not only had a desk full of to-do lists, but dozens and dozens of big red check marks.

But I was only fooling myself. (For example, as everyone knows, you don’t have to REMEMBER to breathe; it happens automatically via a complex biological process known as, um, magic.) My boss noticed that my productivity was still hovering in the zero range, despite all the red check marks, and gave me a choice: either no more to-do lists or no more paychecks.

I truly wish to be cured of this obsession. But it won’t be easy. This is what I must do: 1. Admit I’m powerless over to-do lists. 2. Believe that a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. 3. Make a decision to turn my life over to —  

Oh no! I’m doing it again!!

The Attitude of Gratitude Brings Happiness

In this week’s gospel reading, Jesus met ten lepers who pleaded with Him for help. Jesus did not immediately heal them, but instructed them to go and show themselves to the priests. According to Jewish law only the priests could declare a person “clean” and allow him to re-enter society.

These lepers, still ravaged by the disease, left to find the priests. As they traveled they were miraculously healed. It was their faith in Jesus’ words that did it.

But that is only part of the story. One of the ten lepers, when he realized he had been cured, came back to find Jesus. (This leper, by the way, was a Samaritan, which made him a double outcast.) When he found the Lord, the leper praised God in a loud voice and threw himself at the feet of Jesus in worship.

Jesus said, “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?”

The reading this week offers us an important lesson about gratitude. Last week’s gospel made the point that God does not owe gratitude to us simply because we are doing our duty. We are the ones who have received undeserved gifts from the Lord: mercy, forgiveness, and salvation. Therefore, we, and not God, should be the ones expressing gratitude.

This week's reading directly follows last week’s reading in the 17th chapter of Luke. It is meant to reinforce the concept of gratitude by showing us a clear-cut example. Gratitude is not only the proper attitude we should have when we receive blessings, it is also the ONLY attitude that will produce happiness.

There are people in our society who have been truly blessed; they are healthy and wealthy, and have all kinds of wonderful opportunities most people can only dream about. And yet, many of them have very little gratitude. As a result, they are miserable most of the time. They complain and moan and find fault with everyone and everything.

On the other hand, there are some people who seemingly have been dealt a lousy hand by life. They have a lot of problems and struggles. They have little money, and maybe suffer from serious health issues. But they are grateful for what they do have, and they are especially grateful to God for helping them through the rough times. As a result, they are truly happy and content.

In the gospel reading, all ten lepers had a certain amount of faith in Jesus. They all did as He instructed before any healing had occurred. It was this faith—this trust in what was yet unseen—that removed their disease.

But having faith in Jesus, though the first and most important aspect of the Christian life, is only part of the whole experience. Offering praise and thanksgiving and gratitude to God for who He is and what He has done for us also is crucial. Only the one Samaritan leper did this, and only he was made truly happy.

All ten lepers were healed physically, but only the one Samaritan was also healed spiritually. His gratitude healed his soul after his faithful trip to the priests had healed his body. Since our souls are eternal while our bodies are only temporary, you could make the case that spiritual ingratitude is a worse condition than physical leprosy.

We should model the Samaritan leper’s behavior. If it has been a while since we praised God in a loud voice and threw ourselves at the feet of Jesus in worship, maybe we should try it. We, not God, will benefit the most. This expression of gratitude will make us truly happy.

Demolition Derby on the Highways

I drive a lot for work, and I routinely see startling activity by motorists on the highways. For example, just last week on I-84, I observed the following behaviors: eating, brushing crumbs from shirt, drinking coffee, sucking spilled coffee from tie, talking on cell phone, writing notes while on phone call, and singing along with the radio so passionately the driver’s eyes were closed for ten seconds at a time.

And that was just me. Other drivers out there engage in REALLY dangerous behavior.

Oh sure, being distracted while steering a hunk of steel at 70 mph is not the safest thing in the world. But it’s all right when I do it for two reasons: (1) like 99-percent of the population, I’m convinced that I am in the top one-percent of the population when it comes to driving skills and alertness, and (2) just in case my insurance agent is reading this column, I’m only kidding, and I really drive at all times with both hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, and the cell phone turned off.

I used to think distracted driving was a big problem on the highways, but now I know the real problem out there is psychotic driving. Some drivers apparently are contestants on a new Reality TV show called, “No One Beats Me!!”

According to the rules of the game, a contestant is eliminated from competition if any car gets to a destination before he does. Therefore, to stay in the running for the grand prize, the contestant must behave like a homicidal maniac whenever an unsuspecting motorist attempts to pass or merge or change lanes.

In a bygone era, if someone’s honor was besmirched, the offending party was challenged to a duel to the death with flintlock pistols. Today, if someone’s honor is besmirched — which occurs when the offending party commits the sin of wanting to merge into traffic and get to a meeting on time — again, it results in a duel to the death. Only nowadays the weapon of choice is not a flintlock pistol, it’s a Ford Explorer. (Although based on some news reports, pistols are still preferred by some motorists. I’m guessing they must be traditionalists.)

Once every few weeks, unfortunately, I have to travel on the Connecticut Turnpike in Fairfield County. This stretch of highway recently received the prestigious designation as a “Historic Perpetual Construction Zone.” The current repair project was begun during the Dwight Eisenhower Administration, and is scheduled to be completed sometime during the Chelsea Clinton Administration in 2039 — unless there are unforeseen delays, such as darkness at night, in which case it will be completed in the year 2439.

On some of the makeshift entrance ramps, I’m forced either to merge quickly into traffic between two fast moving cars, or to smash head-on into a pile of concrete Jersey barriers. Most of the time I chose to merge quickly. But when I do that, it invariably inflames the rage of the motorist directly behind me — obviously a reality TV show contestant — who is then obligated to spend the next 20 miles trying to drive me off the road.

Many people say our roads are filled with bad drivers. But think of it this way: each day over 90-percent of drivers get to where they want to go. And almost half of them get there without significant damage to their cars. Since most of the folks behind the wheel are distracted, over-caffeinated kamikazes, I’d say they must be pretty darn good drivers to achieve such a record.

And if you don’t agree, I challenge you to a duel — Ford Explorers at twenty paces.

A Master Waiting on the Servant? Preposterous

In this week’s gospel reading, Jesus told an interesting little parable. He compared being a disciple with being a servant on a big estate. At the end of a hot day, the servant came in from working in the fields, and he did not expect the master of the estate to invite him to dinner. If anything, the servant must wait on the master during dinner, and then afterward have his own meal back at the servants’ quarters.

To Jesus’ audience, during an age when servants and slaves were common, the idea of a master dining with the servants, let alone waiting on the servants, was preposterous. Jesus said a master will not be grateful when the servant did what he was required to do, nor should the servant expect the master to be grateful toward him.

Jesus told this parable to teach us the kind of attitude Christians should have toward God. The Creator of the Universe is the master and we are mere servants. We should never expect God to fawn all over us or give us some special privilege simply because we did our duty. The creature does not demand respect from the Creator. We should understand the situation and be humble.

However, here is the amazing thing about Christianity: God is really not like the master described in this parable. He is not an arrogant plantation owner who barely even notices the servants. Instead, God treats us in preposterous fashion. He invites the lowly servants to dine with Him, and then He puts on an apron and serves them! Jesus was the perfect example of this at the Last Supper: He did the most menial task a servant could do: He washed the disciples’ feet.

Finally, and most amazing of all, our Heavenly Master offers the lowly servants the opportunity to be adopted into His family. If you know anything about old fashioned plantation life, being an offspring of the master is a whole lot better than being a servant or slave. “Moving into the big house on the hill!”

To put it in more contemporary terms, if God were a corporate CEO, He would invite the loading dock worker to join Him for dinner at his fancy country club, then let the worker take his new BMW, and finally, He would adopt that worker as his own son.

We have been saved by the grace of God, not by anything we have done. We don’t deserve it. But God loves us so much He offers the priceless gift of salvation. The lesson this week focuses on the proper attitude we should have. Just because we accept this undeserved gift through faith is not a reason for us to demand that God be grateful toward us.

Here’s the reality of our situation here on earth: We are doomed because of our sin. But our Creator offers us a way out. When we accept this priceless gift, should we then expect that God will be grateful toward us for doing so? Of course not. That’s ridiculous.

Instead, if we go about our duty as humble servants, expecting no special treatment or honor, we will find in the end that our master will invite us to dine with Him. He will bring us to His heavenly country club and give us His celestial BMW. This is yet another Christian paradox: when we do not expect special treatment, we in fact ultimately get special treatment. But if we arrogantly expect it in the first place, we will not receive it.

Our master, our Lord, our spiritual CEO, is not like any human we’ve ever met. He is out of this world. And gratitude and love should be our most overwhelming responses toward Him.

Orange You Glad You’re Not Sprayed?

Well, another summer season is over. Our three-month frolic with beaches and boats and sunny weather has caused many Americans to ponder a deep and philosophical question: Does anyone actually think a spray tan looks good?

This question is very relevant, especially in light of the current presidential election campaign. As we all know, America has become a nation of hyphens: African-American, Irish-American, Italian-American, Native-American, Asian-American, etc. Now it looks like we might elect as president a new type of hyphen: a Cheeto-American.

I suppose I notice tans — both the natural kind and the spray-on kind — more than the average person. You see, I grew up in a shoreline community where my father was the head life guard at the town beach, and I always wanted to have a nice tan. However, since my family can trace our ancestors back to County Albino in Ireland, a region that has been shrouded in fog for 20 centuries and where every molecule of melanin has been weeded out of our gene pool, no matter how much time I spent in the sun as a youth, my skin never tanned. It only turned various shades of bright red. Being an astute child, it took me no more than 900 painful sunburns to realize I would never get a tan. (Something about which my dermatologist today is quite happy, as I now underwrite a sizeable portion of his monthly yacht payments.)

Even though I was unable to have the tan I so desperately wanted as a youth, it has never occurred to me to get a spray tan instead. And there is one simple reason why I would never do it: even I am not that oblivious to reality. The one thing a spray tan does not resemble in any way is an actual tan. A spray tan looks exactly like what it is: the aftermath of someone using a Wagner Power Painter to apply an unnaturally orange-colored layer of chemicals on your skin. If the dermatologist says my many youthful sunburns caused damage to my skin, what do you think a coating of chemicals from the Dupont and Monsanto factories will do to a person? (I suspect we’ll be seeing trial lawyer TV ads in a few years, such as: “If you or a loved one suffered the harmful effects of being spray-painted orange — including embarrassment, humiliation, and unsightly stains on all your clothes — you may be entitled to a large cash award. Call the law offices of Shyster & Myster today!”)

The only thing that looks more unnatural than a spray tan (besides Hillary attempting to be friendly), is the typical male toupee. And when a guy has both a spray tan AND a toupee, even the late, great Saint Mother Teresa was known to blurt out, “Dude! Don’t you own a mirror?!”

Now that we are heading into the Fall season, the folks who got natural tans during the summer are fading back to their normal pale complexions, which makes those who are addicted to spray tans stand out even more like a sore (orange) thumb.

There is only one day this Fall when being spray-painted orange is appropriate. But then, the day after Halloween, you must wash it off so friends and co-workers do not wonder why you insist on impersonating a pumpkin during November. 

It’s like that old public service announcement says: “Friends don’t let friends turn orange.” Maybe we need to do interventions. “Bob, we all love you, but your addiction to orange paint is out of control. Please let us help you.” And maybe we should do the first intervention with a certain Cheeto-American running for president.